Reflections on Cultural Appropriation of the Oaxacan Huipil

by Monet Wolfe ︳12 May 2025

 

Yalaltecs of the State of Oaxaca, from Mexican Costume, 1941, Carlos Mérida. source: Art Institute of Chicago

 

 

INTRODUCTION

On February 7th, 2025, the Mexican Daily News, published an online article titled “Oaxacan artisans accuse U.S. brands of stealing traditional designs.” As the headline suggests, the unspecified author reports on 300 artisans from Oaxaca protesting against the use of traditional patterns of the huipil—a handwoven blouses meant for female presenting persons— by fashion brands J. Marie Collections and Tuckernuck. The goal of the artisans was to propose a call of action by Mexico’s Culture Ministry against these companies as means to further establish international boundaries on the cultural themes that may be considerably sacred to the indigenous histories of their nation.1 The Mexican Daily News is an English periodical surrounding any groundbreaking news within Mexico. It started in 1996 by Travis Bembenek with the hopes to bridge the gap of understanding between the bordering nations of Mexico and the United States. While the author of the mentioned article is unidentified, we can gather that it was not only a report, but foundationally an awareness to advocate for the cultural appropriation of Mexican culture within global perspectives.

This has not been the first time that Oaxacan artisans have protested against this. A previously cited article by the MDN explains how an international recognition began most formally with Mexican singer and politician Susana Harp who openly critiqued the French fashion brand, Isabel Marant,  in 2016 for dropping a line that included  huipil patterns and embroidery motifs. After the year 2020, a pivotal year in international radicalization stemming from the Black Lives Matter movement, there has since been other protests. Upon further examination, the protests have deeper implications beyond cultural exploitation such as negative impacts on Oaxaca’s economy and community life. Because appropriation in this context is more than a critique on the improper use of cultural iconography. First and foremost, it is a critique on the global market as industrialization and the current technocracy we are under today hinders the detrimental consequences specifically within the communities of artisans of handicraft works.2 Secondly, it is a critique on globalizations’ failure to acknowledge important contextual nuances.

Though the author of the aforementioned article does touch on this as they explain how the artisans advocate for their livelihood and the impact on their local economies, the purpose of my own article is to explore what exactly these consequences are and how they are abstractly propelled by the lack of cultural inclusion in developmentalist rhetoric. Fashion and media are one of the most common ways today that cultural property tends to be misrepresented beyond the visual. With this in mind, I intend to help give agency to the efforts of the artisan communities and their protests using the ethnographies and oral histories as the basis of my argument. Though I consider myself of Mexican heritage, I have no direct relation to Oaxaca and thus feel that it is best to enlighten ourselves in such ethical debates using the voices of those who are. To clarify, the agency comes from within the women of such communities that have been impacted by the neo-colonial nuances in industrialism. I do not credit myself with providing agency as this would be something of self-importance, but rather my intentions lie in translating the cultural values and philosophies in a western context.

The article is presented in the form of a scholarly reflection that is broken up into four sections. The first two sections are rudimentarily supplemental as they supply brief background on both the huipil and the history of Oaxaca. The latter half of the sections build on the former with expansion of the oral histories of female weavers and lastly their negative consequences on their circles financially and sociologically as cultural appropriation objectifies indigenous women. Inflictions of objectification are most often formed by tourism and negligent attitudes in cultural awareness.  And so,  I preface that every part of this essay is by no means an extensive lesson on the following respective topics, but rather connections on why cultural appropriation necessitates a reassessment of both perspective and methodology. With these progressive epistemologies my conclusions come to rather personal note to which I hope may resonate with everyone in both intellect and spirit.

ANCIENT HISTORY OF RELATIONS

Oaxacan textiles have developed over time in meaning and value. Various methodologies, such as anthropology and art history, have informed us of this fact but one thing has remained  certain: whether modern or ancient each point to the values of Mesoamerican traditions rooted in their ideologies and belief systems.3 Mesoamerica is a broad region of multicultural influences that pertain to Oaxaca and their woven traditions. The term “Mesoamerica”  today comprises the continental boundaries of Mexico and neighboring Central American nations: Northern Mexican territories to the Yucatán peninsula, and beyond Mexico’s border into Guatemala, El Salvador and Belize. What ultimately connects them is not just shared borders but their interconnection of  ancient civilizations that either predated, overlapped or lived adjacent to one another.  The history of Mexico is extensive as it covers evidence that informs us that what is known about the earliest inhabitants of Oaxacans were hunter-gatherers. It wasn’t until around 500 BC the Zapotec civilization formed in conjunction with the inhabitants of Monte Alban. Despite the Aztec empirical strength the Zapotecs held good relations with Teotihuacan and we can draw this conclusion in diagrammatic maps where a narrow stream of Teotihuacan control flows through regional Zapotec control, what we know as Oaxaca today.4

Archaeological research may attest to this, informing us how economies within the Valley of Oaxaca were a center for trade and artisanal craft both locally and throughout the whole region of Mexico5 based on found objects coming from all regions of Mexico. Additionally, Ivan Sandoval-Cervantes uses Raymond Williams “structure of feeling” to understand relatedness in the development of relationships during transnational migration in contemporary times. I propose with the theory Sandoval-Cervantes argues for, despite the constant migration within Mexican states that have happened throughout the beginning of its civilizations, the bond within Oaxacan artisans permeates throughout Mexico. It also proves the long and standing importance of the region to Mexico, potentially impacting the cultural identity of the nation which I will further elaborate in the following sections.

THE HUIPIL: VISUAL MOTIFS, PATTERNS, AND MODES OF PRODUCTION

Aside from communal aspects, I bring the history of Mexico and Oaxaca into conversation, because the huipil varies regionally. A “traditional” huipil from Guatemala does not adhere to the same praxis as one from one in the indigenous diaspora of Mexico. Even traditions within Oaxaca themselves vary, most likely due to the mountainous terrain which may impose a certain level of estrangement between villages. In Villa Hidalgo Yalalag, a municipality within the Sierra Norte region of Oaxaca, the costume of the huipil comprises seven visual components: the duxlú, yalalag crosses, the huipil itself, a xtap, a baidún, and today yelh.  The duxlú is a black wool headpiece otherwise known as tlacoyal. Yalalag crosses take form in handmade adornment worn as earrings of red and gold beads and a silver or gold necklace. A baidún serves as a belt, though the belt was not always necessary, especially in ceremonies, or aesthetics. It was most useful to working women, whether they be within the domestic sphere , in the fields yielding harvests, and most importantly supported women after birth.  Yalalag huipils have a few variations in design and shape today, though antiquated forms of this typically went past the knees and elbows. Starting with a white cotton cloth as the base, they are then cut in half to form two symmetrical square pieces. The original length of this cloth is typically around four meters, though the women use their own measuring units called ga’llit (roughly translated to English as “elbows”, i.e. 4 ga’llit would equate to 4 elbows) that are based on the length of a person’s arms from the elbows to the hands. Yelh are a more modern addition and consist of chanclas, or sandals made from either leather, velvet or rubber. The xtap works as an underskirt also made of woven cotton.  Larger pieces of cut fabric for the xtap, huipil, and pak nehn baidún, also known as a zoyate palm belt that is made by a cylindrical pattern, are made through a backstrap loom, while the embroidery itself is done by either loom or hand depending on the desired motif.6

The huipil relates to Aztec rituals and processions rooted in the shared ancient Mesoamerican mythologies and spiritual rites.  The design motifs within Yalalag huipiles often entail things of the natural world such as animals or floral patterns that serve as symbolic representations of respective Mesoamerican deities influenced by Aztec design. Evidence of this lies in interpretations of Mixtec screenfold manuscripts made of deerskin. In connecting the visual display of Oaxacan textile motifs to the ancient traditions, scholar Kathryn Klein references an interpretation of the Codex Vindobonensis, as it depicts ritualistic scenes with figures wearing folded garments that resemble the “traditional” garments of both men and women. A well known, but commonly misinterpreted, scene translated from this codex involves the sacrificial ceremony of noblewomen.  The women were led up a set of stairs by high-priests reaching a stone table only to be slain with their hearts left with the priests and their bodies tumbling back down. Soon after this a woman dressed as the deity Xochiquetzal was then flayed alive symbolizing the sacrifice of a live deity. After this procession took place a man acted out as a female weaver, though no weaving actually took place. While these pre-columbian sacrificial rites were most relevant to the Aztecs, Klein posits that the cultural influence in this is “in conjunction with the revitalization of myths and deities expanded into many areas, such as among the Toltec-Maya of the Yucatan and the Mixtec in the Valley of Oaxaca.” (Klein, 2019)

An analysis of the Mesoamerican iconography also highlights the orientation of women in both pre- and post- Columbian times. The feminized motifs they entail are not necessarily used as an indication of gender within the huipil. According to archaeologists, the lack of temples and extensive findings on voluptuous figural sculptures relating to deities of fertility the female body and spirit was fairly revered. Floral woven graphics were connected to the use of flowers in rituals, ceremonies, and other such festivities. One ritual in particular where garments were to be cleansed alongside curated flowers. There are no depictions of this process in the codices, though there are depictions of hung garments that compare to contemporary photos of the ceremony.7

ORAL HISTORIES AND EMPOWERMENT

In Klein’s opening chapter on her text concerning the conservation of Oaxacan textiles she emphasizes that despite changes in technology, whether handwoven or the a use of loom is involved, if mechanization replaces the personal flair of the artisan, then the motifs of cultural identity are thus deviated from the tradition itself.8 Why is the reproduction of traditional garments such as the huipil so inextricably tied to Mexico’s cultural identity today? Within the past thirty years there have been extensive studies on the oral histories of the Zapotec artisans of Oaxaca. Traditionally, the knowledge of the artisans gets passed down generationally to the women. When organizing my research I originally tried expanding on the conservation to create a foundation for my argument, but I realized that there was something deeply wrong with this. Heritage is already a fairly controversial topic within the United States at a time like now, from which I write this: at the forefront of the debate we are often challenged by the question of whose heritage we are conserving, unbeknownst or not. There was also the issue of my personal comfort level of studying the ethnographies of communities I did not belong to. It wasn’t until I stumbled upon the published work of Ariadne Solis who investigates the oral histories of multi-generational communities of Yalalteca women that maintain traditions of the costume in both wear and reproduction. She emphasizes throughout her essay about the need to incorporate new methodologies from a more integral approach in our studies of contemporary objecthood where cultural rhetoric applies.

While folklore has been criticized for being less empirical in the academic world for its subjectivity, it grounds the scholarship of personal narratives and insight into communities that may otherwise be lacking. Oral histories oppose disconnected ideas and thoughts where nuances in the human emotion of some cultures are key. I highlight the communal bonds of Oaxacan craftsmanship that should be taken into account when comparing it to the huipiles sold by western fashion brands. In an autoethnographic study of the Guatemalan huipil, Olivia Gessella Perez-Langley uses her personal experiences and the interviews of her own family and other women from her villa to situate the huipil as a rite of passage:

“Many years after these childhood gifts, my sister and I received our huipiles, a day before the wedding. I knew the garments were different. Not only were they unique in design, I knew the different patterns had a kind of power, not like magic, but something like status, legitimacy, and acceptance. Time stood still for me in that moment of silence as I raised my hands and had my huipil placed on my body by Magdalena Quino Peres, the woman who wove it. I felt, for the first time, accepted as Guatemalan.” (Perez-Langley, 4)

Though concerning a different region, what we can take from this is that the huipil is not only a pride of one’s heritage, but of acceptance in cultural communities. What’s more, the handwoven motifs hold a spiritual intention of protection and love from the women who made it. It is an act of thoughtfulness that cannot be coded within machinery’s replication. There is also the building of community in three repertoires that Ariadne delineates with cross-cultural terminologies and philosophies: (1) tequio, a delegation of tasks and personal accountability, (2) ke yoitello, community spaces meant for everyone, (3) wzon, reciprocity in personal relationships between community members, specifically in dynamics with larger age gaps. 9This sense of community acts out as a way of social responsibility in daily civic life.

IMPLICATIONS OF APPROPRIATION

In Chiapas, the neighboring state of Oaxaca, scholar Eugenia Bayonia Escat asserts Zincatan textile weavers and their female bodies as the basis for the state’s economy. In the Global North their level of exoticism permeates globally, indigenous women around the world are often an indication of tourist attraction to though she clarifies that the state does not “promote tourism as a way of combating poverty within indigenous communities”, but rather it “tolerat[es] ethnic and cultural diversity while promoting the commercialization of indigenous culture”.10 I recall seeing the same notions of exoticism during the few years I studied in Honolulu. As with any transient city, first introductions are often accompanied by questions surrounding how people ended up there. Men, often US mainlanders, would answer the question seriously with a smile on their face, “The beautiful women of course!” alluding to specifically women from AAPI diasporic communities. When I bring this antidote up to people in conversations on the mainland I notice hints of surprise. That’s because in the professional world, this would be otherwise inappropriate.

A majority of foundational educational institutions (pre-K to 12th grade) within the United States do not inform the masses of the cultural underpinnings in other states or nations. Most peers of mine who have gone to public school were only taught on the history of the United States from a government perspective, i.e. how the U.S. gained its independence, the Civil War, etc., etc.. Though there is a lack of indigenous history of our nation, that hinders our cognizance when we place ourselves within a different cultural environment. This is most likely why Americans are perceived as either gullible or tone-deaf in nature when it comes to touring. Stereotypes are thus formed; because we can only learn so much from the visual without understanding a history, I propose that mass commodification of traditional material culture, like the huipil, instigates this phenomenon.

I’m aware of the frankness in my tone, though I don’t bring about such issues as to badger those who have made the mistake of wearing items that don’t belong to their culture. The point I am attempting to convey is that the actions of the fashion industry, modes of fashion, and the individual to decisions in how we render ourselves. Every action we make necessitates further reflection in how it may have an impact in the grander scheme of life as it affects the social dynamics within these communities. I compare this idea to great American cities today like Seattle and San Francisco where there is a large exodus of youth leaving elsewhere due to the rise of the technology industry. Uber drivers have replaced taxi drivers, and Waymo has replaced all human drivers, leaving less and less room for job opportunities.   Despite the promise of a higher standard of living, developmentalism seems to be exploitative in its exclusion of the multi-generational communities that are proposed to benefit from. Gui Bonsiepe and John Cullars imply this with the dependence theory and how it “has gained relevance due to the alarming process of economic asphyxiation in Latin America, largely provoked by the exportation of capital to pay the astronomical interest on national debts.”11 Theory of dependence in this context, is best summarized by the unequivocal balance of economies with the core advantageously profiting off of the periphery.12

Fast fashion is already under attack for the damage it has recently caused on the environment.13 Machinery may perhaps be beneficial for efficiency’s sake, but it seems time and time again, history has repeated itself with every new invention and push towards modernity. A couple historical examples of this are proven in the invention of the word press or the more drastic inventions of Oppenheimer.14 The level of ingenious and hard work of those investing into such machinery is impressive. However, considering at large the actual necessity of a huipil in the greater global sphere invalidates industrialization. To frame this into more simple terms: the costs of reproducing the huipil (time, money, human/cultural exploitation) outweigh the personal gain of consumers and corporate merchandisers. And so, it leaves us, as individuals from all positions, with a huge moral dilemma that requires a major reassessment in the value systems of companies. How much longer are we to exhaust the natural world for the sake of pushing human intellectual limitations for means of efficiency?

In an online forum called “Oaxaca-The Year After” the discussion surrounding appropriation of Santa Maria Tlahitolpec and Susana Harps advocacy, commenters share the sentiment that Harp’s efforts were ingenuine and made as somewhat of a PR stunt. Additionally, they mention that cultures have been shared over time. It’s difficult to gauge the true intentions of wealthy public figures, however the critique is an important one nonetheless.  Appropriation is a multi-faceted issue beyond the basic concept of stealing practices of cultural importance. The impact of tourism parallels the negative connotation of gentrification where communities that hold great pride in their way of life are at stake. It is not wrong to feel inspired by other cultures and globalization is not inherently evil. Outside of economic stimulation, there are many personal benefits. For example, the integration of other cultures allows us to be challenged in healthy manners and may promote camaraderie between different groups of people. This in turn also allows individuals to confidently assess and understand themselves better. The bottom line is the fashion industry’s desire to create gaps of knowledge in culture and consequence by means of commodification in hopes of gaining wealth. It is ultimately exploitative of cultural values and the female body within economies, as they are in Chiapas and Oaxaca.

CONCLUSION

With the mere application of the indigenous language Nahuatl in the word huipil brings to mind Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui’s chi’xi theory where she proposes reclamation of modern ideas through use indigenous language and terminology. Chi’xi, the Aymara (indigenous Bolivians) word for “grey”, metaphorically referenced the mixed web of cultural systems within Bolivia. There are a great deal of other words in Mexico that parallels this concept that further give agency to the cultural values of the nation– most of them being food, such as the word xocolatl (chocolate) which was used in spiritual rites as well.  The expansion of cacao has actually been a common argument against cultural appropriation. While we cannot possibly undo the colonial actions of the past, it is to my belief that with the booming radical thought of the 21st century society is beyond excusing exploitation. Outside of ethical purposes, the woven practices of Oaxacan artisans are something we could all gain from as it goes along with environmental stewardship.  The irony in this is that, the concept of being a steward of the earth has become political in western politics, yet it was an idea preached in the Catholic Bible emphasized by the Franciscan church during early medieval/Renaissance times. With the current threats of critical thought in society, it is important that we are to be cognizant of these paradoxes and choose not what is right for the immediate gain in our pockets, but of our spiritual and physical health. Whatsmore I find that lack of research and perspective in this case is also a lack of integrity within companies.

How can we properly go forth in the world of art and design where we acknowledge the mixed world we are in today especially within the Americas? The establishment of decoloniality studies within design and its undercurrents are still in tension with the inextricable value system of economics and ideologies, making the sentiment behind efforts of decoloniality rather altruistic. Society as it stands today does not seem to be in a place to provide an immediate answer to the issues involving fast fashion. Though that isn’t to say efforts are futile– it will just take time, patience, forgiveness and most importantly personal accountability as long as scholarship continues to bring such pressing matters into conversation.

As my final note, I’d like to reinstate the research I’ve applied within this essay as a tool in exploring the lives of those advocating for their livelihood both in economy and culture against the barriers misrepresented cultural importance. I emphasize that their power of agency has always been within the women of artisan communities as their efforts to maintain and inherit the cultural values and long standing weaving practices are the most natural sense of conservation. My position here would be best explained in the words of UNAM art historian Ariadna Solis in her original Spanish version of the essay “Reconfiguring Methodologies for the Study of Textiles: Weaving and Wearing the Huipil in Villa Hidalgo Yalalag” (2019):

“Retomo las propuestas de Linda Tuhiwai Smith al posicionarme como una investigadora indígena, pero con el cuidado de explicitar que no se trata para mí de romantizar una identidad sino más bien de reclamar ‘una genealogía, como también un conjunto de experiencias genealógicas, culturales y políticas’. Reconozco, al igual que las mujeres que aparecerán en este ensayo, “los modos en que la investigación científica ha sido partícipe en los peores excesos cometidos por el colonialismo’.” [ “I take after Linda Tuhiwai Smith’s proposals as I position myself as an indigenous researcher, but I carefully make it explicit that, for me, it is not about romanticizing an identity but rather about reclaiming a ‘genealogy and a set of cultural, political, and genealogical experiences’. I recognize, just like the women that will come up in this essay, “the ways i which scientific research has participated in the worst of excesses committed by colonialism.”]15

 

 

NOTES

  1. MND STAFF, “Oaxaca artisans accuse U.S. brands of stealing traditional designs,” 2025 ↩︎
  2. Thelmadatter, “Cutural Appropriation in Mexican fashion: The ‘Original’ revolution,” 2023 ↩︎
  3. Klein, Kathryn. The unbroken thread: Conserving the textile traditions of Oaxaca. Los Angeles, 1998. 7 ↩︎
  4. Paddock, John, and Ignacio Bernal. Ancient Oaxaca : Discoveries in Mexican Archaeology and History, 1970. 32-36 ↩︎
  5. Feinman, Gary M., and Linda M. Nicholas. Domestic Multicrafting for Exchange at Prehispanic Ejutla, 2025. ↩︎
  6. Solis and Jones, “Reconfiguring Methodologies for the Study of Textiles: Weaving and Wearing the Huipil in Villa Hidalgo Yalalag.: In Beyond Mesizaje: Contemporary Debates on Race in Mexico, ed. by Tania Islas weinstein and Milena Ang. 297-299 ↩︎
  7. Klein, 6 ↩︎
  8. Klein, 8 ↩︎
  9. Solis and Jones, 302 ↩︎
  10. Escat, Eugenia Bayona. “Female Bodies and Globalization: The Work of Indigenous Women Weaver in Zincatantan. “ Latin American Perspectives47, no. 6 ↩︎
  11. Bonsiepe, Gui and John Cullars. “Designing the Future: Perspectives on Industrial and Graphic Design in Latin America.” Design Issues 7, no. 2,1991.18 ↩︎
  12. See glossary for core-periphery model ↩︎
  13. Le, Ngan. “The Impact of Fast Fasion on the Environment – PSCI.” Princeton University, July 20, 2020 ↩︎
  14. Richard Hollis, “Introduction,” in Graphic Design: A Concise History, 1994 and 2001. 7-11 ↩︎
  15. Solis Bautista, 71. While there is an English translation of this text, I use the Spanish version of this quote to maintain my position that personal narratives should be used within scholarship. Though I have elementary understanding of Spanish due to my ethnic background in Mexican heritage, the English translation has been provided by my colleague Lucia Molinar Gonzalez who helped to evoke the poetic ethos behind Ariadne Solis’s original words. ↩︎

 

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